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<title>Where is he? by gustaehy</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27767815">Where is he?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/gustaehy/pseuds/gustaehy'>gustaehy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>One Direction (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, this goes to him that broke my fuking heart with van gogh conversations and vans in the foot.</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 22:54:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>256</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27767815</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/gustaehy/pseuds/gustaehy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“He dreamed of having the stars and I dreamed of having him.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

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<a name="section0001"><h2>Where is he?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The first time I saw him he wasn't playing Arctic Monkeys and no other band. It was a cloudy Saturday that the sun was risking trying to get through the clouds and he was standing talking to some people handing out smiles. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He just appeared out of nowhere with his blue eyes and soft hair. Always smiling and having conversations with everyone who risked getting close. Always wearing black jeans and jeans jackets. He was easy to like. He was a summer night with a heart made of Christmas snow.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Our first conversation was about Van Gogh. He dreamed of having the stars and I dreamed of having him. He spoke slowly, savoring the taste of every word he said. His lively voice saying what he liked could be considered my favorite sound.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The day I kissed him was a Monday, the sun was starting to rise as we said goodbye to the moon. He tasted like beer, cigarettes and love. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But one day he left. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He left fast, just as he had arrived. He left and took with him all the songs we heard together, all the movies and series we saw. He took in his suitcase all the two years we lived together.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Even today they ask - "<em>Where is he?</em>" - and I never know what to answer. Maybe, I missed us. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sometimes I feel like crying, sometimes I feel like calling and asking if he's ok. But I always get up from bed and pass a coffee mug and write a verse or two.</span>
</p>
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